


sugar (daddy), oh, honey honey

by MonsterParade



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Knotting, Money kink, Mutual Pining, Other, Spike Modifications (Transformers), are you Swindle? ARE you?, catching feelings, i'm in it for the money swindle says as he holds ur hand, in it for the money swindle says as he raws you stupid, maybe just a little, no pronouns mentioned but reader is DFAB, willful disregard of size difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-02-29 10:12:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18776191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonsterParade/pseuds/MonsterParade
Summary: It's a partnership. A mutually-beneficial arrangement. A little tit-for-tat! There's nothing much more to it; you're both just in it for the money....Er, right? Right???





	sugar (daddy), oh, honey honey

It's a partnership. A mutually-beneficial arrangement. A little tit-for-tat! In the same words Swindle likes to repeat so frequently like they're going out of style, it's a "you scratch my back, and I'll scratch yours" type of deal.  
  
You're not _friends_ , not really. You're acquaintances, at best.  
  
And that's a shame.  
  
When you'd met him, you'd been distrustful from the start. Someone you didn't know, someone on a _blocked_ number, texting you on your personal cell phone about wanting to 'strike up a deal'? Alarm bells all over. Through a series of coincidences and happy accidents in your early adulthood, you had stumbled your way into quite a lot of money, and you'd had to learn very quickly what types of people were not to be trusted. Anonymous gold-diggers were near the very top of the list.  
  
**'No'** you had texted back that first time, and then immediately blocked the number. You hadn't really thought much of it.  
  
Not even a full day later, another blocked number had messaged you again, and it had turned out to be the same person, wheedling you about 'opportunities' and 'partnerships' and how you **'really have a lot of potential, if you _just_ had someone to show you the ropes!'**. This time, you'd let them talk just a little bit before you blocked them again, starting to feel a little alarmed but mostly bemused.  
  
**'Still no, dude'** , you had eventually replied, wondering vaguely to yourself if you actually had enough money for someone to want to kill you over it, **'I don't know you. Don't text me again'**.  
  
Naturally, your warnings had done utter jack-shit. He'd texted you again. And again. And again.  
  
Eventually his incessant bartering had even gotten to the point that you'd considered calling the cops, or maybe even just throwing your phone into a lake, and looking back on it now it's pretty funny, because if you hadn't gotten smashed off your ass one of those nights he'd decided to message you, you probably never would have actually _met_ this partner of yours.  
  
You still actually don't know precisely what it was about you that had made him so determined to buddy up with you back then. Your inexperience, probably. Swindle was and _is_ a used-car salesman of the worst sort, and back then you'd been the poor schmoe who'd wandered onto his lot all doe-eyed looking for your very first car.  
  
When he'd texted you again on that one drunken night in the past, your stupid mushy brain had been so thoroughly marinated in spiced rum that you'd really gone and made what had turned out to be one of the best _and_ worst decisions, simultaneously, of your _entire_ life.  
  
You'd gone out alone to meet him. Swindle was just so _disarming_ , even over text, that he'd managed to get you to stumble out your front door armed with nothing but a canister of pepper spray and a pocket knife and agree to meet him **'wherever you like! someplace public, if you're worried, just anywhere a car can drive'**.  
  
You seriously could have died. You _should_ have died, in all probability. You would have been a murderer's wet dream in the state you'd been in.  
  
But no. No.  
  
Swindle was way too canny for that.  
  
He'd _charmed_ you instead, through the radio system in his jeep (his _mysterious, self-driving, mind-boggling to your drunken brain_ jeep), and although that night is still only bits and pieces to you, you can still clearly recall all the fun you'd had, talking and talking to your new buddy-- and business partner!-- until he'd dropped you off back at your house at dawn.  
  
You'd never told him where you lived. Not that you had remembered that, at the time.  
  
Swindle and his sweet-talking had caught you up hook, line, and _sinker_ , and so when he had transformed in front of you as you'd walked up to your door, revealing his true face and his _true_ _form_ , you had done little more than gawk and smile, allowing him to shake your hand and promise, with a grin, to 'call him later'.  
  
You'd sobered up, but you'd never really looked back.  
  
Because who could turn down such a unique acquaintance?  
  
  
  
Nowadays you tend to stay away from alcohol. It's fine enough in moderation, but Swindle is _insatiable_ , and you've learned your lesson already about the sort of things he can talk you into. No, nowadays you do your dealings with him with a clear head, and sometimes, if the proceedings go well, you even invite him over to your place to wind down the night (you sit in the parking lot with him and pirate movies on your laptop).  
  
It's such a shame-- you _really_ adore him. You sometimes wish he was in this thing for _more_ than just the money, species differences be damned.  
  
He's an awfully charming fellow.  
\--------------------------------  
  
  
"Four-thousand ninety-eight, four-thousand ninety-nine, aaand...that's _five_ thousand! Pleasure doing business with you!" Swindle says cheerfully, flipping through the massive wad of bills in his hands with all the satisfaction of a junkie who's just gotten their fix. The money looks hilariously small in his hands, as big as he is, like toy cash from a Barbie playset or something, and you can't help but smile, watching him pop open the drawer on the front of his chest to tuck the bills inside.  
  
"You know, Swindle," you prompt, leaning up against the wall in the empty lot the two of you are dealing in with your eyebrows raised, "I don't think I've ever asked you what you do with all that money we make! Like, how do you use it? Surely you're not buying things on _Earth?_ "  
  
Swindle chuckles and slides his drawer closed again, patting it affectionately. He reclines back against the opposite wall in a position mimicking yours, his body language loose and easy.  
  
"Why, with the help of some other business associates of mine, of course!" he exclaims. "And don't go getting too jealous, because _you're_ still my favorite, but a mech has varied needs--"  
  
_'Bullshit'_ , you think to yourself, trying not to laugh as he speaks,  
  
"--And yes, some of my other partners have worked out a few ways to transfer Earth currency into something a little bit more, mmm, _useful,_ on a galactic scale. No offense meant, of course!" Swindle assures you. You snicker and shake your head, waving him off. He gesticulates wildly as he talks, and even after so long it's still very distracting, so you find yourself looking more at his waving hands than at his eyes or face. You've wondered before just how much of that is reflexive, and how much of it is simply meant to draw the eye for bartering purposes.  
  
"None taken. So-- huhm. Then, are there _more_ Cybertronians on Earth besides you? Or are your friends different kinds of aliens too?" you ask curiously. Swindle tilts his head, smiling.  
  
"Oh, they're this and that! You get to know all kinds of people in my line of work, you see," he says, waggling his fingers at you, "But one or two of my associates _are_ Cybertronian like myself, yes! Why do you ask? Not thinking of _replacing_ me, are we?"  
  
He's mostly teasing, you know, but you still can't help squawking indignantly at him and pushing off the wall you'd been leaning against so you can thump the flat of your palm against his chassis. He allows your mock-slap without a fuss, swatting playfully at you in return but carefully avoiding actual contact.  
  
Sometimes you're just not sure how he feels about you. Like _this_ , right now-- it's companionable. It's _friendly_. And it makes you feel all fuzzy inside about it, but Swindle _is_ still, primarily, a con-man. There's just really no way to tell what about him is genuine and what is just him putting on airs.  
  
It's a pretty shitty guessing game to have to play.  
  
"Where would I _ever_ find somebody else with such a head for finances?" you ask, and watch Swindle puff up a little bit in genuine pride, his optics flashing a violet light that glances off of his glossy plating in distracting arcs. He's so gaudy, honestly, you don't even want to _ask_ what his detailing costs.  
  
"Nowhere in the nearest galaxy, that, I can assure you."  
  
You laugh lightly, and Swindle brushes imaginary dust off of his shoulder with a smirk, and after that the two of you lapse into a few minutes of mostly-comfortable silence. Swindle taps at a little panel on his arm and a little screen pops out, transparent purple to match his paint job (of course), and you watch with mild interest as Cybertronian symbols scroll past with a flick of his finger, words you can't hope to read lighting up as he clicks on them. Something to do with his finances, you're sure.  
  
With no further responsibilities to attend to at the moment, you just kind of...watch him for a while. He doesn't seem to mind, at least, although he does glance up at you once with a brow quirked and a strange little smile on his face, prompting you to grin back at him. He at least doesn't call you out about it.  
  
You're not really thinking about anything in particular while you zone out staring at him, just kind of relaxing and appreciating how oddly handsome he is, for a robot, with those big gorgeous violet eyes, but apparently you still lose track of yourself a little more than you'd noticed while you do because when his 'phone' rings suddenly-- an incessant high-pitched beeping noise that makes you frown and cover your ears-- you jump about half a foot in the air and then have to try and play it off while Swindle smirks at you and clicks his tongue.  
  
"Oh dear. Forgive me, I have to take this. --A-hello? Swindle here."  
  
Swindle turns his back to you as if that would keep you from hearing him, and you obligingly turn away from him as well and wander a little ways away to give him his privacy, wondering only halfway-casually to yourself how one would go about trying to woo a robot like him if you tried your hand at it. You mentally assure yourself that the train of thought is only out of curiosity, and steadfastly ignore the other 90% of your brain that tells you you're full of shit.  
  
Do Cybertronians date? Do Cybertronians fall in love? You're not so self-centered to think that love is something that exists only to human nature...many, many species have the capacity to love, even on Earth alone. You suppose you just wonder if his type of love is compatible with yours.  
  
"Now Lockdown, you know the rules, I have a schedule." you hear Swindle say behind you, in his satiny-smooth customer service voice. You pull your phone out of your pocket and look down at it in an effort to keep yourself from eavesdropping, but it's unsurprisingly hard to tune out his conversation when it's the only thing happening nearby. You pretend to look at Instagram.  
  
"--What? No, you're not coming over here. ...Because I'm in a meeting with another customer! You know how I prize buyer-dealer confidentiality."  
  
You end up smiling to yourself at that comment, despite your best efforts. You're pretty sure Swindle would sell _anything_ if he thought it would net him a profit, and that includes 'confidential' information. You hold no illusions about your privacy when it comes to him.  
  
There's a brief pause from behind you as Swindle listens to his caller.  
  
"... _How_ much, did you say? Mmm, my my my, perhaps that _is_ something that requires my immediate attention. Do you have it on you?"  
  
Realizing that Swindle's attention has been successfully turned away from you, you abandon your social media attempt _and_ all illusions about inviting Swindle over for one of your rare nights in tonight as you slip your phone back into your pocket and turn back around, returning to Swindle's side to wave him down.  
  
"I'm gonna go home, I think," you whisper to him, jerking a thumb back over your shoulder. Swindle takes a moment to read your lips, and then for some reason, frowns, cocking his head slightly to the side. It takes you a moment to realize that he's listening not to you, but to whoever is on the other end of his phone call. You waggle your fingers at him and start to walk away regardless.  
  
\--And then yelp in surprise as Swindle's absolutely _massive_ paw of a hand seizes you by the back of your shirt, in a way he's never dared to grab you before, and then drags you back to him and into the air like he's lifting a plush toy. Naturally, you squirm and swear, and give him a sharp look of offense as he sets you much more gently down in his opposite palm. He taps the side of his helm with his free hand, indicating that he's still in his call.  
  
"Of course, of course!" Swindle says, honey-sweet, to whomever's on the other end of the line, "You know I'm good for it, Lockdown, what kind of an arms dealer would I be if I couldn't put aside a little extra credit for a situation such as this? --Yes, I'm sure you _would_. Hm. Mm-hm. Well that's just _fine!_ I'll send you a ping with my location. ...Okay, take care not to jostle the merchandise on your way here! O-kay. Buh-bye."  
  
Swindle finally hangs up his call with a quiet beep from his helm, and looks down at you with a smile that is not _nearly_ apologetic enough as you cross your arms and sit back in his hand to give him a Look, waiting for an explanation. He's never manhandled you like that before, and you can't say you appreciate it, so out-of-the-blue.  
  
"So, here's the thing," Swindle begins, lifting you up close to his face so he can fix you with the full force of his practiced retail grin. He stretches out one finger to nudge underneath your chin, playing at affectionate, and although you are well-aware that he's only doing it so he can try to sell you something you hadn't been expecting, you can't help the tiny shiver that works its way across your shoulders at his touch, so overtly intimate. You wonder if any other customer of his has ever clocked him for getting so friendly with them before.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
You swat lightly at his finger to push him away, without any actual conviction to it, and Swindle obligingly withdraws his hand, although the static tingles from the contact remain. He flutters his eyelids at you and hums tunefully to himself.  
  
"My buddy Lockdown, a good friend of mine-- not a nice fellow, but a good bounty hunter, Lockdown, always a good customer with an eye for a good buy-- well see, he's just come across something _interesting_ as a product of his latest assignment, and you see, _partner_ \--"  
  
You cut him off with a wave of your hand and sprawl back on his palm in mock-resignation. You grin up at him, lightly exasperated.  
  
"You need my help to buy it." you finish for him.  
  
"Clever as always!"  
  
You purse your lips, meeting his smile.  
  
"I dunno...um, I mean, it's gotta be _pretty_ fuckin' expensive if _you_ don't even have the cash on-hand for it. You, Swindle, mister money-machine!" you point out, and Swindle shrugs smoothly, a practiced motion, and barely jostles you. Lying down as you are in his palm, you fold your arms behind your head and cross your ankles. You feel faintly like you should be more alarmed about being in his grasp than you are.  
  
"Well, I-- well, don't _flatter_ me, first of all--"  
  
"You love it."  
  
"I _do_ , but regardless! I've always paid you back in a timely manner, haven't I?" Swindle argues, pressing his free hand to his chest. "Money spent is money made, and vice versa, and I would _never_ do anything to sully our wonderful business relationship, now would I?"  
  
...He makes a good point. Despite how sleazy he is, he's never missed a payment, not even by a little. Plus...well, you _know_ he's just manipulating you, but you still really love to hear him croon to you like this, soft and warm and reassuring. Like a lover.  
  
The mental comparison makes your skin prickle, pleasurably.  
  
Maybe you're more into Swindle than you'd thought you were.  
  
"Alright Swin, I'll cut you a deal," you decide, and sit up, criss-cross applesauce in his hand. Swindle perks up, instantly interested-- he's like a clicker trained dog, you _swear_ he has some kind of Pavlovian joy response to the word 'deal'-- and you rub the back of your neck, trying to finalize your decision. "...Okay. I'll buy your thing; or rather, I'll _loan_ you the money for your thing, but _only_ if you let me meet the guy who's selling it when he shows up." you offer.  
  
Swindle's smile flickers, the most outward expression of apprehension you're likely to get from him while he's in dealing-mode, but it doesn't slip away, and he lifts you up even closer to his face so he can look you in the eyes while he hums, apparently thinking. He clicks his tongue again.  
  
"Can I ask why?" he asks.  
  
"I wanna meet your friend!" you reply cheerfully. "Or dealer, or associate, or whatever he is. I'm curious, can you blame me? The only people I ever get to talk to are humans! And you, of course."  
  
Swindle whistles through his teeth, propping up his free hand on his hip, and finally relents, chuckling and then nodding his head.  
  
"I suppose I can understand the desire. I will need you to sign a waiver, though," he says, and to your great surprise, another screen pops out on his arm, about the size of a flat-screened tv compared to you, this one displaying a contract written in perfect English. Swindle taps his finger on the dotted line at the bottom. "Just so I'm not at fault if you do or say anything that Lockdown takes offense to. He _is_ a bounty hunter, after all! I can't guarantee anything. Do we still have a deal?"  
  
You grin, a little surprised, but barely hesitate before reaching up to the touch screen on your knees and signing a clumsy signature on the line with your index finger. The screen flickers, flashing green, and then folds back into Swindle's arm to disappear again. Swindle beams.  
  
"Great timing! Because look who's here!"  
  
You whirl around as fast as you can, almost unbalancing yourself, and grab onto Swindle's thumb for support as you crane your neck up, up...and make eye contact with a far taller robot who is much, _much_ scarier than Swindle could ever be. Swindle doesn't seem concerned, but you can't help the anxious thump of anticipation that starts up in your chest.  
  
"Wow," you whisper.  
  
The unfamiliar Cybertronian gives you no more than a glance, raising one eyebrow, and then turns his full attention back to Swindle, leaving you to boggle at him some more like a child at the zoo.  
  
"You didn't strike me as the type to take in strays," the new Cybertronian remarks to Swindle, reaching up with the hook that hangs in place of his right hand-- and, yes, oh my god, he totally has a _hook_ for a _hand_ , holy shit-- and picking at his own teeth with the point of it. "What's with the organic?"  
  
You grunt softly to yourself and try not to look too offended. Swindle, however, slaps his hand to his chest again like a Victorian woman about to go into a swoon, and the other Cybertronian's neck cranes back in obvious surprise, expression toeing the line somewhere between confused and annoyed. Swindle then reaches down to rub your head with his index finger, which musses up your hair and very much does not help with the other fellow's perception of you as some kind of pet.  
  
"Why, _Lockdown!_ Now let's use our manners here! This is my _business partner,_ not a _pet_ \-- they're being so kind as to help me out with the funds for _purchasing_ the new little toy you've brought me!" Swindle exclaims, and his smile is almost rictus, for a moment. Whether he's scared of Lockdown offending you or just of Lockdown himself, you can't tell, but you opt to try to diffuse the tension regardless by pushing yourself up onto your feet and extending a hand, introducing yourself with a shy smile. Lockdown dips his neck down to look at you more closely, and Swindle's hand curls up further around you for just a second.  
  
Lockdown grunts dismissively and shrugs a shoulder, offering you the curve of his claw to shake. You do so enthusiastically, grinning up at him.  
  
Swindle relaxes.  
  
"Sure, whatever," Lockdown says, waiting until your comparatively tiny hands release him and then pulling his hook back to his body and crossing his arms. He glances around, rather pointedly, and then taps his foot a few times. "As long as you buy it. Let's just get this transaction rolling, shall we? We're both busy mechs. And I've got someone a little _tied up_ back at my place, so I'd like to get back to him before he can wiggle loose."  
  
Blinking a few times, you squint up at Lockdown and try to decide if he's talking about BDSM or potential murder, and then remember that he's a bounty hunter and just try not to grimace, choosing to pretend it's a BDSM situation instead for the sake of your mental health.  
  
Swindle, for his part, doesn't seem thrown in the least.  
  
"Of course, of course," he says, popping open the register on his chest with a ridiculous dinging noise. "The item, if you please? I'd like to inspect it before I pay, you understand."  
  
Lockdown gives him a look.  
  
"You try to pull anything, Swindle, and you'll be the next one on my slab," he warns, and watches Swindle nod, just a little more vigorously than he might have needed to.  
  
"Come on now, Lockdown, I'd never try to fleece you. I like all of my internal components exactly where they are, thank you very much."  
  
That seems to be enough for Lockdown. He pops open a compartment on his torso, similar visually to Swindle's cash register pocket dimension, and starts to fish around inside, and to your surprise Swindle kneels down and slides you out of his hand and back onto the ground, where you look back at him with chagrin.  
  
Swindle grins at you and gently turns you around.  
  
"My apologies. This item isn't for human eyes. Apparently organics can react quite... _violently_ to the sight of it," Swindle tells you, and your brain helpfully supplies you with an image of your eyes burning out of your head. You're _definitely_ not interested in looking anymore. You grimace and nod. "You've met Lockdown, just like I promised. Now, your card, if you don't mind?"  
  
Swindle holds out his hand, and you sigh and dig around in your pocket for your wallet, slipping the necessary card out of the fold and dropping it into his palm. He curls his fist around it, delicately, and a thread of light pulses up from his wrist following the lines of his arm until it makes its way up to his chest-register, which dings cheerily again, and then he hands your card back to you.  
  
The plastic is warm and static-electric when you tuck it back into your wallet again.  
  
___________________________________  
  
  
"So?" you prompt, after Lockdown's retreating figure has finally disappeared into the gloom of the approaching twilight.  
  
"So?" Swindle repeats, his mystery item all wrapped up in a containment field and safely put away. He looks very pleased, idly patting and stroking his own chassis where the item is hidden, and he looks down at you with gleaming optics as you stand up on your tip-toes and press your palms against his knee, wishing to yourself that you were a little taller.  
  
" _So_...what now? Done for the day?"  
  
"I imagine so," Swindle says, stepping back so he can transform into his alt mode without catching your fingers in the transformation seams. "Give you a ride home? It's on my way."  
  
He pops his door open for you, and you beam and clamber inside, getting comfortable in the passenger's seat while your eyes take a few moments to adjust to the dark interior. With twilight falling fast, it's getting a little harder to see, and thanks to Swindle's weirdly-tinted windows most of the light inside his cab is coming from his radio panel, painting your skin and his upholstery in a cool lavender. You've ridden along with him enough times to be comfortable with it, but not quite enough for the excitement of it to wear off completely.  
  
You stretch out, waiting for him to kick into gear, and lace your hands behind your head as he peels away out of the lot, watching the city lights start to go by.  
  
Swindle turns the dial on his radio a few times while you watch, which to you still makes it look like a ghost is driving, and then fills the comfortable silence with some sort of slow jazz that pours through his speakers, which makes you you snicker and roll your eyes as saxophone assaults your ears.  
  
"Classy," you note, lightly tapping his radio screen.  
  
Swindle hums to himself and just chuckles, his rear-view mirror adjusting in a way that you know means he's looking at you.  
  
"Any plans tonight?" he asks, evidently trying to make conversation. You blink and then laugh, shaking your head.  
  
"Me? God no. I'm gonna go home and take a long hot bath, maybe even light some candles or something."  
  
"Mm, sounds _romantic_."  
  
"--By _myself!_ " you clarify, acting scandalized. You can try to pretend that the faint flush that rises to your face is just another added effect, but you can't deny that there's _definitely_ something alluring about the tone of voice Swindle had just used. You also find yourself wondering just how much Swindle's idea of romance overlaps with the human one, and then promptly dismiss that thought before it has a chance to make you look like a fool.  
  
"Aw, I'm not invited?" Swindle teases, his windshield wipers twitching in a way you think might indicate waggling eyebrows in this form. "No love for your buddy Swindle? That's a shame."  
  
"Swin, if you could find a way to fit yourself into my tiny little bathtub, I'd be so impressed that I'd let you in there with me."  
  
You're so distracted with making your joke to hide how flustered you are that you almost miss the odd, bouncing tremor that runs through Swindle's interior after you speak, like he's just run over a series of logs. You tilt your head, momentarily worried, but then Swindle laughs, smooth and easy, and your worries are dispelled, leaving the tremor forgotten in the back of your mind.  
  
" _Surely_ someone like yourself has somebody waiting for you back home?" Swindle asks, idling at a stop light, and you feel your eyebrows raise unbidden before you start to chuckle again.  
  
"Somebody like me...? You mean someone with money?" you ask in reply, lightly tapping the lever on the side of your seat until Swindle gets the hint and obligingly reclines it for you. You smile as you wiggle down and get comfortable, folding your hands across your belly, and you can hear Swindle hum noncommittally, which probably means _yes_. "I don't have a fuckin' _sugar baby,_ if that's what you're asking! Nah dude. It's just me, myself and I."  
  
Swindle makes a quiet 'tsk' sound.  
  
"The other humans don't know what they're missing." he murmurs.  
  
You raise your eyebrows, suddenly flattered, staring up at the ceiling. You try to ignore the uncomfortable burning in your cheeks as he lets his words hang.  
  
"...Are you coming onto me?" you eventually ask, pitching your voice up into the most obnoxiously high-pitched and sultry thing you can manage in an effort to dispel the tension, "Why Swindle! I had no idea you felt that way."  
  
"Do you want me to be?" Swindle asks, a little too quickly, and the burning, blushing feeling intensifies as you thump his seat with the back of your hand, growing increasingly embarrassed. You're-- not sure how you _feel_ about the turn this conversation has taken.  
  
"Swindle, that's...um, I dunno how it is on _Cybertron_ , but it's-- not nice to joke about something like that on Earth!"  
  
Swindle starts rolling again, and there's quiet for another minute. And then,  
  
"And what if I wasn't joking?" he asks, over the increasingly grating sound of jazz trumpets from the radio, and you abruptly sit upright in your seat, giving him an intense look in the rear-view mirror before your nerves get to you and you're forced to cast your gaze to the side. You chew your lip, and then force yourself to stop.  
  
"You'd better _not_ be. Or I'll kick your metal ass."  
  
Silence.  
  
"...But if you weren't joking..." you eventually continue, staring hard at the switch on the door that controls the window for lack of somewhere better to look, "If you _weren't,_ I guess I'd...I guess I'd ask you to pull over. Because--"  
  
Swindle pulls over so suddenly that you nearly slide forward onto the dashboard, forced to grab onto the seat-belt that you had declined to buckle earlier to anchor yourself.  
  
He skids to a halt in the mostly-empty parking lot behind your apartment, and you look around at him, bewildered, before he pipes up again.  
  
"Dude!"  
  
"Alright, I've pulled over. Now what?" he asks.  
  
You stay where you are, frozen in your seat with your heart thumping, and desperately try to figure out what Swindle's trying to play at, here. He has nothing to gain from lying about this. Nothing except maybe getting a good laugh, but he must also know that you'd be so pissed-off about a joke like that that you would ditch him, if not permanently then at least for a _while_ , and you just don't think he'd be willing to risk that.  
  
"Swindle." you say after a minute, stopping to clear your throat as your voice threatens to break, "Swindle. Are you serious about this?"  
  
"Are you?"  
  
_That's not a fucking answer,_ you want to snap at him, but instead you lurch forward, shouldering open his passenger-side door, and jump out into the parking lot, propping your hands up on your hips as you demand,  
  
"Kiss me then."  
  
You're half expecting him to just peel out of there and leave you on the asphalt in response, once he finally figures out that whatever trick or joke he's angling to play won't work; but he _doesn't_ , and for a minute that's almost _worse_ , because it leaves you standing there trying to put on a brave face while Swindle transforms back into root mode in front of you-- while you try to pretend your face _isn't_ strawberry-pink from rising mortification.  
  
"You know, I was hoping you'd ask," Swindle says, almost contemplatively, and drops to one knee. He's still taller than you, by a good amount, but he's close enough to eye-level now that you get too embarrassed to hold his gaze, and you're actually only a few moments away from trying to ollie the fuck out of this situation before Swindle brings a hand up to cup your face, his thumb brushing across your cheek. You manage not to jolt, but only barely.  
  
"You better not be fooling," you mutter, leaning in a little bit despite yourself, and Swindle chuckles warmly and bends down further, petting along your jaw as he lets go of your face and picks you up by the waist in both hands instead. You squeak, but just hold onto him, feeling the restrained strength in those metal hands that could just crush you.  
  
"I would _never_. Do you even _know_ what you _do_ to me?"  
  
You don't know, but you don't get a chance to ask, either, because then Swindle is pulling you close to him and tilting his head and his lips press against yours, experimental and strangely warm. Skin-to-metal contact with him often makes your skin hum, like static electricity, but _this_ time it's magnified ten-fold; you make an 'eep' sound as the unexpected sensation makes you shiver, and then you just _melt_ , pushing back to meet him as your eyelids flutter.  
  
It's wonderful. It's _confusing_ , it makes no _sense_ , but it's wonderful and by god you'll take it, and you can just try to unpack everything later. _Much_ later, when Swindle isn't nudging back in with a little more force, now, making you sigh ever-so-softly and stretch to loop your arms around his neck.  
  
He laughs again, like he's giddy, and pulls back just a little to talk.  
  
"This isn't quite how I expected this to go, but I can't say I'm complaining."  
  
Now that you know for certain you're allowed, you lunge forward and kiss his lips again, and then his cheek, and then his chin, and Swindle laughs harder and actually has to pull you back a little while you whine at him for it like some kind of half-crazed animal.  
  
"I take it you're interested in me as well, then?" he asks, and you kind of...wriggle, just excited, and laugh breathlessly in reply.  
  
"Are you fucking serious? How-- how long-- of _course_ I am! How long have you-- _when?_ "  
  
Swindle hums and dips his head down to kiss the line of your jaw.  
  
"Oh, I don't know-- I haven't really kept track of it. Long enough. You know, I had plans for this? I was going to wine and dine you, really set the mood, but you've just gone and ruined that," he complains, and his lips tickle against your skin badly enough that you push at him and squeal.  
  
"Swindle! I- I mean, easier on the _wallet_ though, isn't it?" you reply, turning your head and smooching the corner of his mouth. "I can't _believe_ this! I've been holding my breath all this fuckin' time-- and you were holding out on me?"  
  
"Like I said, I had plans!"  
  
To your surprise, Swindle readjusts his weight and sets you back on your feet again, and when he straightens back up his usual smile is back in its usual place again, looking very nearly unaffected if it weren't for the shiny lip-gloss kisses left streaked along his face. You cover your mouth, surprised and delighted, and opt not to tell him yet.  
  
"So were you gonna...? --Wait. Wait, oh my god," you begin, and then crumple halfway forward and slap your leg in amusement, barking out a laugh, "Oh my _god!_ Was _that_ what was with the goddamn jazz on the ride here? Was that mood music?"  
  
Aaaa-hah. Caught in the _act_. For maybe the first time that you've ever witnessed, Swindle _blushes_ , and his cheeks color a dark purple that he steadfastly ignores while you exclaim in delight.  
  
"Well it obviously _worked_ ," he mumbles, almost drowned out by your guffawing. "So who's the real winner here."  
  
"Don't sulk," you chuckle, patting his hand and grinning up at him. "I think it's sweet. I think it's really, really sweet!"  
  
Swindle's optics glitter.  
  
"Sweet enough to invite me in tonight?"  
  
And, man, talk about a change of attitude. The blush is just _gone_ , and Swindle smiles back down at you with hooded eyes and a seductive expression that just has absolutely no right to be as attractive as it is. You gawk at him, flustered all over again, and swat his hand properly now while you hide your face in your opposite palm. You doubt he even feels it.  
  
"I'm joking, of course!" you hear him say, and feel his finger prod into your side, and it makes you yelp and jump away with a big dumb smile on your face, your heart beating fast. You stare up at him, considering.  
  
Would he even _fit_ in your house...? It would be a tight fit, for sure...but... _hmm_.  
  
"Don't talk the talk if you can't walk the walk," you eventually reply, propping your hands up on your hips. You raise your eyebrows in challenge, and watch Swindle stutter on whatever he'd been about to say as his processor chews on your words.  
  
"I-- _bwuh_ ," he says, and then reboots his voxcoder by thumping his chest until it crackles, trying again, "Wanna run that by me again?"  
  
You're not a particularly brave person, usually, but you _are_ particularly horny, and now that you know Swindle has been carrying a torch for _you_ , the knowledge is proving itself to be the wind beneath your metaphorical wings. There's also a real kind of power in seeing the usually unflappable Swindle stammer over himself, which is a reward in and of itself.  
  
"I'm just saying, don't imply you can fuck somebody if you can't follow through!" you clarify for him. You shrug as casually as you can, just to rile him up more, and Swindle gives you a _look_ that makes you feel a little over-warm with something that is _not_ just good humor.  
  
"And I think _you_ shouldn't imply you can take it when you don't know you can."  
  
You're both still smiling, but there's tension, now, and if you're being honest with yourself you're suddenly more than a little turned-on. You hold his gaze as firmly as you can and brandish your very best 'fuck-me' eyes. Swindle's optics widen in response.  
  
"I would bet you a hundred dollars that you'd finish first." you say. And _oh_.  
  
_Oh_. That was what did it. You really should have known.  
  
A fine tremor works its way down Swindle's frame, from his shoulders to his pedes, ruffling his plating on the way, and before you have a chance to move or dodge out of the way Swindle bends forward and snatches you up in his giant paws again, rising all the way back to his feet with you cupped in his palms, startled and eager. Hopeful.  
  
"Save the foreplay for the bedroom," Swindle scolds you, giving you a salacious grin as he sets off for the door to your apartment building. "You're going to wish you'd saved that money to buy yourself a new bed."  
  
____________________________  
  
Swindle is full of surprises. He manages to fit himself into your apartment building via the _deux ex machina_ of something called 'mass displacement'-- you have no idea how long he has been holding onto _that_ particular trick-- and is even able to wedge himself through your front door without losing more than a few chips of wood off of the door frame. He carries you the whole time, bridal-style once he shrinks himself down, and you just can't seem to keep yourself from kissing him all the way there, his lips warm and humming and electric beneath yours.  
  
With minor direction, he hip-checks your bedroom door open and basically tosses you onto the bed. You bounce with an ' _oof_ ' and lay prone, sprawling with your legs akimbo and a slightly dazed look on your face. Swindle looms over you from the doorway.  
  
Boy, is it hot in here or is it just you?  
  
"Well come on, cash money," you prompt him, patting the bed beside you, "You wanna earn that hundred dollars or not?"  
  
You're a little less confident than you sound; you imagine the first time fucking a giant robot would be intimidating for just about anyone, but you're certainly not deterred, and in fact, something about having to wonder if he'll even fit inside you has you getting all hot and bothered before you even _start_ , as you wiggle enticingly on the blankets.  
  
Swindle seems to be feeling about the same.  
  
"If you're so eager to lose it," he teases back, finally ducking into the room proper and joining you at the bedside. He bends over you, to kiss you again, and then draws back with a teasing nip to your lips as he tests his weight on the bed, first with his arm, and then carefully sitting alongside you. It holds, but just _barely_ \-- you may end up actually having to replace it after all.  
  
_Fuck_ yes. That's hot as hell.  
  
Swindle shifts and repositions, minding his weight, and then brushes his fingers along your chin and down your throat, feeling your skin soft against his hand, dipping past the collar of your shirt to tease along the edges of your bra. His movements are all perfectly natural, like he spends all his downtime feeling up organic species.  
  
You suppose you should have guessed. Silver tongue, and silver fingers too.  
  
"Off?" you ask, resting your hands on the bottom of your shirt. Swindle nods, his eyes glittering in the low light, and you tug your shirt up and over your head as fast as you can, launching it across the room and into the laundry heap in the corner. You reach around to unhook your bra, and it follows your discarded shirt shortly after.  
  
"Excited?" he asks, leaning over you and smoothing his hand across your chest without missing a beat. He hums appreciatively as you draw in a breath, arching your back to convince him to touch you more, and he brings his other hand up as well so he can cup your breasts, rubbing experimental circles with his thumbs. "I was under the impression _I_ was supposed to take your clothes off of you."  
  
"Faster if I do it," you reply, torn between wiggling and going limp. "Sorry, I've just-- it's been a _long_ time, for me, you know? And I- I- I've thought about this a _lot_."  
  
Swindle clicks his tongue and coos in faux sympathy, his expression equal parts smug and delighted as he tweaks your nipples and watches you bite your lip.  
  
"Oh, you _poor_ thing," he says sweetly, "I can't believe you made that bet! I almost feel _bad_ about taking those hundred dollars now. Almost."  
  
Oh, on the contrary. You can plainly see how pleased he is about the state of you already. You have to wonder if he's more excited about the money at this point or about actually getting his dick wet.  
  
And speaking of...  
  
"Oh!"  
  
"Oh?"  
  
You sit up a little, just close enough to press another lipgloss kiss onto Swindle's jaw, and then reach up to cup his chin in your hands, listening to his engine turn and purr.  
  
"What exactly are you packing, anyway? Are we-- oh, man, are we even compatible?"  
  
You can't _believe_ you forgot to ask! If you've gotten this far and it turns out _now_ that you can't find a way to make this work...you're going to walk outside and step in front of a car.  
  
Blessedly, Swindle does not seem to share the same concerns.  
  
"Oh, trust me, we're more than compatible," he assures you, turning that stupid 'I'm-selling-you-something' voice on you and still managing to turn you on with it despite all higher judgement. "But don't take my word for it! Why don't you take me for a little test ride? Get your hands on the, heh, wheel?"  
  
"Oh my _god_ ," you groan, collapsing back on the bed with a look of betrayal, but Swindle seems to have already decided on his own despite you, and you hear the 'click-click-clank' of metal whirring and shifting before something new and sleeker than the rest of him takes its shape between your open thighs. The new pressure makes you shiver in surprise, and you prop yourself up on your bent elbows to check out what he's done.  
  
Oh. Oh! He has a dick! Like a proper, totally manageable dick!  
  
" _Gold?_ " you ask automatically, trying not to giggle at the absolutely gaudy piece of hardware pressing against the zipper of your jeans. It's a more metallic gold than the rest of him, a _proper_ gold, and it's smooth and tapered and a dark purple at the head, with matching lines of little lights running down either side of it, like a landing strip. You grin and cover your mouth, trying not to offend him.  
  
"Well of _course_ ," Swindle scoffs, helpfully choosing to ignore your giggling and rub his length lightly against your pants instead. "Do I look like someone who would choose _silver?_ Besides, wait until you see what my transfluid looks like."  
  
"Your what?"  
  
"Mm, nothing! You'll find out."  
  
A little ominous, but alright. You _suppose_ you can allow yourself to be distracted from it for the time being, as long as Swindle keeps pushing up against you like this, insistent and just a little teasing. You squirm, trying to press back against him, and he chuckles and sighs, trying to get your zipper between his stupidly huge fingers.  
  
"Are these coming off as well?"  
  
"Fuck yeah they are. Here, scootch," you say, nudging his dick with the back of your hand. He pulls away as requested, but not before his engine growls again at the contact, and you take a moment to be startled by how much warmer that part of him is. It's slick, too, like it's already lubed up. "Oh wow. Are you _always_ that wet, or are you just happy to see me?"  
  
"Why not both?" Swindle hums. He's quite good at playing like he's cool and casual, as he watches you unzip your jeans and wriggle out of them-- but you've known him long enough to be able to see through that facade, and you don't miss the greedy shine in his optics as he finally gets a look at your cute panties, visibly damp in the front. You smile up at him and give him a few seconds to admire them before those, too, are peeled off and tossed aside.  
  
Swindle's grinning too, and draws in a hissing breath through his teeth as you splay your legs further and reach down with one hand to touch yourself, spreading the lips of your pussy open.  
  
You don't miss the way his dick throbs in response, and you laugh delightedly as Swindle forces himself to look away while you slick your fingers up.  
  
"What's wrong? Not feeling so confident about that hundred dollars now?" you tease him gently. His smile quirks to the side, looking a little strange, and although it's dim in the room you _think_ you can see his cheeks starting to color again, matching the violet that darkens the head of his cock. You're shocked you're not feeling more shy about this, but he is doing _wonders_ for your self-esteem.  
  
He doesn't have a comeback to that one, so you chuckle to yourself and reach down to wrap your slick fingers around his shaft to watch him jump, his engine revving so abruptly and loudly that it rattles the headboard above your bed. Oh, your neighbors are going to _kill_ you in the morning.  
  
"Oh!" Swindle yelps, as you carefully stroke over the glitzy metal in your hand, and he pants once, open-mouthed, as he gets himself back under control. "Now that isn't fair! I'd be _offended_ if I...if I didn't... _slag_ ," he trails off, and just gives you a sulking look as best he can while simultaneously shifting his position, scooting up closer so you can touch him better. It's far cuter than it is anything else, so you don't feel the least bit sorry.  
  
"You're so pretty," you tell him quietly, letting just a bit of that tenderness you feel for him come to the surface while you feel along his length, watching the little lights embedded in the metal flash and flicker in response to your touch. "Like a treasure. All amethyst and gold."  
  
Swindle's jaw drops open, and he makes a weak moaning sound in response, his eyes sliding halfway shut with the sudden hungry look on his face.  
  
You beam at him and wrap your other hand around him alongside the first, squeezing lightly.  
  
"Oohh, did you like that? Being called a treasure?" you tease, "Because _look_ at you. You're just _gorgeous_. Stained glass and gold leaf, all hot and bothered-- _shit_ , Swin, why didn't we do this sooner?"  
  
"Beats me," Swindle breathes, rocking into your hands. He's obviously a little out of it now, not that you could blame him, but it's still not enough to keep him from remembering what he was supposed to be doing, and he shakes his head and snaps himself back to it with his servos grasping, stroking through your hair, brushing over your lips. It almost makes you feel like a teenager again, hurried and heavy petting in a cramped dark room. He manages to get his signature smile back on his face in short order.  
  
"Your hands are so small on my spike," he remarks, cocking his head and glancing down. "Almost makes me wonder if it's going to fit. --Not to worry, of course, I have a few tricks up my sleeve if it comes to it--"  
  
"--I'll _make_ it fit," you cut him off, letting go of his spike abruptly so you can touch yourself again. Swindle watches you with eager eyes, watches your fingers dip down so you can rub slow, hard circles around your clit, and one of his hands drifts down to follow yours, making you squeak and nearly jump. He brushes your hand aside and takes its place.  
  
"So small," he repeats, brushing over you with the pad of his index finger, tracing your wet lips up and down and admiring the way you collapse for him in a blatant plea. You push your hips up at him and grab the blankets, this situation far too long in the making for you to tolerate much teasing, as Swindle begins to push his middle finger against your entrance. "And so soft! --And you know, now that I _think_ of it, we could make _quite_ a lot of money by taping this encounter and re-selling it...to support interspecies relationships, of course!" he adds.  
  
"Swindle, I am not making a sex tape with you." you reply flatly. Swindle sighs dramatically and tosses his head back, mumbling something about "your loss", and then abruptly presses his finger into you all the way to the last knuckle, his big chunky digits each as big around as two of yours and certainly _feeling_ that way as you gasp in surprise and dig your nails into the bed. You make a garbled, undignified sound and clench around him, pulling at the sheets.  
  
Swindle chuckles, deeply smug, and bends down to kiss you again.  
____________________________  
  
  
"Son of a bitch, motherfucker, _yes, yes,_ Swin, _please,_ " you babble, twenty minutes later and two fingers deep as Swindle continues to scissor you open. He's been taking his time, displaying an unusual amount of patience while he pins you down and works you to the edge repeatedly. You've always suspected that he might be just a _little_ sadistic, and now you finally have your proof, as you cling onto him and whimper pitifully while he rudely stops moving _again_ , denying you an orgasm for the third time. "Gah-- _Swindle!_ Fucking come _on!_ "  
  
"Now now, patience is a virtue, you know," Swindle chastises you as you drip around him, transparently gleeful.  
  
"You wouldn't know virtue if it bit you in the ass, Swin," you shoot back. You're short of breath, short of patience, short of _everything_ except the desperation to get him to get a _move on_ already, and when Swindle crooks his fingers again and drags against that sweet spot inside of you, you bite your lip so hard it burns and grab his wrist in a vice grip with both hands. Swindle blinks his big, stupid, beautiful eyes at you while you stare at him and you have to resist the urge to just let him keep doing what he wants.  
  
You have to be firm. You need his dick in you, like, _yesterday_.  
  
"Had enough already?" Swindle asks sweetly, and you wriggle and pull at him until he slides his fingers out of you with a last fond drag and allows you to guide him into position over you, trying to act like his spike hasn't been slowly dripping neon-bright arousal all over the bed for the past ten minutes.  
  
"I thought you _wanted_ to make me cum before you," you reply, trying to pout and failing miserably. It's all too _good_ , this close to him, warm and buzzing with desire, and you're pretty sure you end up giving him some serious doe-eyes instead, sucking your lower lip into your mouth. Swindle's eyes follow that movement, and it makes you feel wonderfully _wanted_. His hips twitch forward on reflex.  
  
"Thought I'd give you a fighting chance, since I'll be winning regardless!" he says, trying for nonchalant but all out of breath. You're too horny at the moment to bother calling him on it.  
  
"Then put your money where your mouth is and _fuck_ me already!"  
  
Swindle's vents dump heat into the room, and his engine roars. He grabs your hips, repositions you, holds one of your thighs up and out with sticky fingers, and you pant and plead at him with your eyes and the lines of your body as the head of his spike rubs against the lips of your pussy, smearing whatever pink fluid he's been dripping in a way that makes you faintly glow.  
  
He pushes into you.  
  
You'd expected a little warning-- a little more frustrating banter, at least-- but Swindle only presses himself close to you and holds you down to the bed as the tapered head of his spike presses you open and slides easily into your cunt, no breathers given as he pushes himself into your wet heat all the way to the hilt. Making nonsensical sounds of relief, you go absolutely limp beneath him and just try to relax, trying to get him to work himself in as deeply as possible while his spike gets gradually wider towards its base.  
  
It aches just a little, but that's _exactly_ what you wanted.  
  
"Swindle! _Yes!_ " you moan, finally able to luxuriate in the feeling of having his length inside you, bizarrely hot and absolutely _throbbing_. You grab at him, struggling to hold him properly thanks to his boxy frame, and Swindle lets his eyelids droop until they're almost closed in pleasure, slowly starting to move. The lights that line the sides of his spike act as a little bit of texture, and ignite sparks of pleasure as they drag against your inner walls.  
  
"If you think that's nice, wait until you feel the _real_ stretch," Swindle says, laughing breathlessly and giddy. He seems elated, and when he pulls back and then rolls his hips on the return, the whine of pleasure he gets in return makes his optics flare with light. You continue to clutch at him, and in a moment of unexpected sympathy, he offers you his free hand.  
  
You lace your tiny fingers with his much larger ones and cling onto him like your life depends on it.  
  
"I literally don't know what the fuck you're talking about," you tell him, rocking up against him while the two of you try to find your rhythm. You're smiling, wide and goofy, but you just can't help yourself-- you've got the butterflies like you haven't had since...well, maybe _ever_. The point is, you're on cloud nine already, and your brain isn't good for much at the moment other than admiring the way Swindle grits his teeth and lets his eyelids flutter as you squeeze around him.  
  
"You'll see-!" he breathes.  
  
He's being vague on purpose. Whatever he's planning on doing, or whatever is going to happen, he evidently wants to keep as a surprise, and funnily enough, you _trust_ him to do that. Swindle may be a money-grubbing, two-faced, sweet-talking bastard, but he's _your_ money-grubbing, two-faced, sweet-talking bastard, and you trust him not to do anything that would hurt you (not unless you asked him to. Then, all bets are off).  
  
The realization makes you feel all fuzzy inside, and you reach up with your free hand so you can urge his head down to catch his lips again, clumsy and excited.  
  
You're fine with just lying back for now and letting him fuck you, just greedily enjoying the steadily-increasing pace of his thrusts and his clawing, grabbing fingers. He's surprisingly non-talkative once he's got you tight around his dick. He doesn't breathe, but the vents set into his chassis are gushing hot air, turning your cheeks pink and beading sweat onto your skin, and he seems oddly intent upon maintaining eye contact, pulling back every few seconds to gaze at you before diving back into the kiss. It makes you blush, the experience unexpectedly tender.  
  
  
  
It takes you a good few minutes of this intense, weirdly passionate rhythm you've fallen into before you realize that something odd is starting to happen every time Swindle's hips meet yours.  
  
Where at first he had been able to hilt himself inside you with little trouble, thanks to all the stretching and teasing he had done beforehand, all of a sudden it seems like he's meeting a little resistance at the end of every stroke, having to push a little harder to get himself all the way back into you. And you are admittedly distracted, but you're also certain that you can feel some kind of bump at the base of Swindle's spike that _definitely_ wasn't there before, pushing up against your pussy.  
  
Disoriented but curious, you raise your head a ways and attempt to look down, getting an unexpected bolt of arousal from watching Swindle's spike disappear into you in a glittery blur.  
  
The light in the room is unfortunately too dim to really see what's going on, with how fast he's moving.  
  
"Swin-- Swindle," you begin, your voice bouncing from the force of his thrusts. Every few strokes he manages to hit a _really_ good spot inside you that makes your toes curl, and it's _very_ hard to keep your thoughts in order under those conditions-- but you do have to try, because whatever's going on down there is starting to have some trouble fitting into you, like it's getting _bigger_. Swindle blinks a few times, a little out of it, and hums questioningly.  
  
"Hm?"  
  
"Something you wanna tell me?" you ask him, gesturing loosely with your free hand to where he's railing you like it's going out of style. Your other hand is still clutching his, and you give it a reflexive, encouraging squeeze.  
  
A little bit of the fog seems to clear from Swindle's optics at the gesture, and the question sinks in.  
  
He starts to laugh, low and delighted. You raise your eyebrows.  
  
"Oh, of course! Now _what's_ that term you humans use?" he asks, slowing his pace a bit so he can talk and making you whimper a little from the loss. "Let's see...on Cybertron we call this a _breeding mod_ \-- it's a nifty little thing, surprisingly expensive to have installed, unless you happen to _know_ some people-- the Earth term is escaping me, but I believe you see something similar on the canine creatures on your planet?"  
  
Canine?  
  
It takes you a _long_ minute to get your sex-addled brain to cooperate with you after Swindle speaks, but when it finally does, and when the answer finally clicks-- you almost gasp out loud, flushing furiously and squirming in place beneath him. You clench down on him without meaning to, flustered, and Swindle moans in surprise and grinds his spike hard into you.  
  
"Are you telling me you have a _knot?"_ you exclaim, your voice coming out in an embarrassing squeak as Swindle's _knot_ \-- holy shit-- smacks against you, finally too swollen to fit inside you on a proper thrust. Like, you're no child; you've been on the internet long enough to know what animal dicks look like, and courtesy of your furry days, you're pretty familiar with this particular piece of anatomy.  
  
Swindle humps himself against you with a devilish look on his face and reaches down with his free hand to feel around between your legs, brushing against your clit.  
  
"Oh yes! That's the word."  
  
That shouldn't turn you on as much as it does. It _definitely_ shouldn't turn you on as much as it does. But--  
  
"Ohh, _that's_ what you meant by 'the real stretch'!" you realize belatedly, realizing how hard you're breathing only as Swindle slows his movements down to an easy roll. Now that he's no longer hammering away at you, you can see him a little better, and...and yep, there's the knot, bright gold and swollen against the lips of your pussy, just resting there while you try not to cum on the spot from the simple idea of something so big around trying to force its way into you. Your interest does not escape Swindle's notice, as he bursts out laughing again and idly pets along your pubic mound.  
  
"I take it that you're interested, then?" he teases. You're nodding your head before you can even think, mouth hanging half open, rocking your hips and fidgeting restlessly with lust. "I thought you would be! Then just _relax_ , sweetspark, you're going to _love_ this."  
  
You're not certain you _can_ relax-- you've never experimented with anything like a knot before. It feels...daunting, smack up against your entrance, so much wider than the rest of Swindle's spike. But you're more than willing to try, more than wet enough to take it, you think, and Swindle's confidence is very reassuring, his voice silky-smooth as he readjusts the two of you and tilts your hips up further, prodding you until you hook your ankles around his waist.  
  
"You're going to look _so good_ stretched open around me. You want that, don't you?" he purrs, finally letting go of your hand so he can hold you steady and rub your clit at the same time. "Want my thick knot in your tight little pussy? That's the human term, isn't it? --Oh, yes, I know, just hang onto me, you'll get to cum in just a minute."  
  
Swindle holds you firmly around the waist, starting to push himself against you in earnest, and for a minute the sudden pressure forcing itself against your entrance is almost too daunting, feeling much bigger than it looks. But Swindle knows what he's doing, and carefully rocks himself back and forth, pushing hard until you stretch around him, just a little, and then pulling back to give you a moment before repeating the process, loosening you up little by little. He keeps his thumb firmly over your clit, not moving, just pressing, and the steady pleasure helps to keep things from being too overwhelming.  
  
"That's it, there you go," he praises you sweetly, a strained grin on his face as he forces himself to take things slowly for your benefit. "Open up for me, beautiful? That's it, _oh_ , you've _almost_ got it--"  
  
And then the knot finally pops in, past the lips of your over-stretched cunt with a mortifying squelching sound, and you _gasp_ and lock up _hard_ , your mind briefly going blank as you're forced to try and adjust around the sudden girth of him. Swindle, too, hisses, moaning past clenched teeth, and his fingers dig into your hips, hard enough that you expect they'll leave bruises.  
  
It's so big. It's _so_ _big_ , or at least it _feels_ like it, locked into you firmly enough that when Swindle twitches his hips, you can feel it pulling at your inner walls with brain-melting pressure. You fist your hands up in twists of the bedsheets and cry out, feeling more full than you've ever been and _desperate_ to cum.  
  
Swindle lets his head drop and rests it against your neck, covering you with kisses, condensation beading on his plating.  
  
" _Yes!_ Yes, yes, oh, sweetspark, you're so tight around me--" he murmurs against your throat, pushing and pulling his knot inside you in tiny, tiny movements, "I-- slag, _slag_ , I'm not going to last. Come on, here you go, look at you taking me _so well_ \-- don't you want to overload? I bet it'll make you cry. You'll look-- so _good_ like that."  
  
As he babbles against you, Swindle finally starts to rub you in earnest, in hard, fast little circles just above your clit, and you can feel the pressure building and building, your orgasm coming up on you much, _much_ faster than you were prepared for. You're stretched so wide around him, you're not even sure you'll be able to clench down on him when you cum...and that fact has you squirming desperately, so, _so_ close to the edge and just unable to tip over.  
  
You don't give a shit about the hundred dollars on the line anymore. You're just writhing, at this point, your body having some trouble deciding how to react to the massive swell locked inside of you as the tension refuses to crest until it begins to border on over-stimulation. You're close, so painfully close to cumming, you just need a _tiny_ bit more--  
  
"Fuck me! Fuck me, fuck me _please!_ " you beg, trying to push up against Swindle even though your hips are already flush together. Swindle digs his teeth into your neck, just enough of a nip to sting before he soothes it with his lips and tongue, and gently pinches your clit between the pad of his index finger and thumb, rolling it back and forth. You make a garbled noise, thumping him in the aft with the heel of your foot, and press your hands tightly over your eyes, Swindle's senseless chatter not much more than background noise as your blood pounds in your ears.  
  
"You're-- tighter than a _minibot_ , I- I can barely even _move_ \-- I should have done this to you _stellar cycles_ ago...! Can't believe I put it off-- that's it, _yes_ , come on, just overload around me, that's _it,_ " Swindle babbles as his engine roars, thrumming furiously in his chassis. He jerks his hips back, his knot pulling hard on your cunt, and after a few more moments of that intense pressure from before, it gives again, and he pulls back out of you with a ' _pop'_ , looking nearly drunk on sex and digging his denta into his own lips. You cry out again, your breath catching in your throat,  
  
and then Swindle pushes you down and _slams_ his knot back into you, forcing you to stretch to the very brim again, and your cry turns into a genuine, high-pitched sob as your orgasm hits you so hard that your whole body locks up, nearly to the point of cramping.  
  
You want to finish with Swindle's name on your lips, but unfortunately your brain has absolutely evaporated in your head as Swindle's knot pulses inside you, throbbing _hard_ , and you claw at the bed covers like a cat in heat as your orgasm swells and swells and drags, tears pricking your eyes. His knot is too swollen inside you for your pussy to really clench down on it, but by god does it try, and Swindle drops forward and buries his face in your throat again as he leans into the massage your cunt is providing, his mouth hanging open dumbly.  
  
The first gush of wet heat into you feels nearly molten.  
  
Swindle goes rigid on top of you, his hips jerking a few more times before stilling completely, and as he tenses up you can feel him overloading deep inside you, far more than you had expected, the liquid heat catching you off-guard as it swells up inside you, all of it locked into your pussy and making you keen as you continue to cum around him. Swindle pumps himself into you, babbling nonsense that you can't hear against your skin, and you go dizzy with the heat of it, losing yourself to the feeling.  
  
  
  
  
You think that's harder than you've ever cum before in your life.  
  
You don't remember closing your eyes.  
  
You blink your eyes open, letting your arms fall to your sides as you try to scrape your senses back together, and although your vision is bleary from tears you can still see the light of Swindle's optics, half-open and gazing fuzzily at you with some unknown emotion you could only label as 'tender'.  
  
Once he sees that you've come back around, though, he wipes that expression off his face with haste, replacing it with a blissed-out smile.  
  
"Hey," you croak, stirring slightly and feeling the fluid inside you squelch where Swindle is still knotted to you.  
  
"Hey yourself," Swindle replies, most of his weight propped up on his arms, his hands planted firmly into the mattress on either side of your head to helpfully keep from crushing you. "Thought maybe I overdid it for a minute there. Was it as good for you as it was for me?" he asks with a honeyed tone and a laugh. He looks and sounds downright _smarmy_ , and if you weren't way too busy trying to feel your limbs again, you would probably smack him.  
  
As it is, you can just manage to tilt your head up enough to give him another exhausted kiss before flopping back again, your whole body buzzing.  
  
"Worth the hundred dollars, I think." you say.  
  
"I should _think so!_ Or do humans just _usually_ cry when they overload?"  
  
"Oh shut _up_ , Swin, you're getting the money, don't bust another nut over your ego," you grumble, trying to hide your grin in the cables of his neck. Swindle just laughs at you, nuzzling into your hair and gently shifting his hips, and the movement jostles him just enough inside you that a thick drip of golden transfluid spatters out of your thoroughly-used pussy and onto your inner thigh. "...Are you planning on pulling out of me, by the way?"  
  
Swindle hums tunelessly, bringing one hand down to feel around the edges of the bulge where he's locked inside you. He looks almost sleepy.  
  
"Mmm...don't you know? These mods take time to go down. We're going to be stuck like this for a while," he says, sounding far too satisfied by the prospect. "It's almost a shame. Not that I've got anywhere to be, but I am a bit impatient to see what it's going to look like when my transfluid finally spills out of you. I think it'll be a _fantastic_ look on you."  
  
Laughing dizzily, you reach up to cup his cheeks in your hands, slightly mushing the soft metal of his face, and gently clench around him, watching his optics flutter in surprise and his servos grasp in response.  
  
"Hey, fifty dollars of that hundred back and you can take a picture of it when we're done."  
  
" _You_ have got yourself a _deal_."


End file.
